Through Crimson's Eyes
by Aztec Goddess
Summary: How does the mind work? In many cases, not properly, but that is only relatively speaking. So who can accurately say what is proper or improper, true or false? Kimblee centric.
1. Reminisce

Aztec Goddess: This is for you, my poor neglected Kimblee! I feel so bad for not starting this sooner! Anyway, this is in Kimblee's POV. And, of course, I don't own nor claim ownership of FMA.

Reminisce

Glass shards darted in all direction, ripping, shredding, tearing through my flesh. It stung – fragments buried themselves into my newly open wounds. I soon lost feeling of my arms, but my face burned due to ammonia vapor. I was only eight years old at that time, but still, that was one pathetic attempt at alchemy.

Ammonia found under the kitchen sink fundamentally contains nitrogen, hydrogen, and oxygen. I came up with the imbecilic idea that the silicon in a glass window can replace the carbon needed to complete my explosive. Needless to say, the results were rather displeasing. I decided I would not leave the house until I got my chemical reactions correct. That took several months.

My mother congratulated me for my success in the field of alchemy by introducing me to Central's Medical Arts Building. Though I must admit meeting mentally impaired people proved to be entertaining at times, I disliked that place. All the doctors there tried too hard to make me feel inferior or corrupt; it was almost enough to make me vomit. The medications they imposed on me left much to be desired as well.

I later discovered that alchemy was not completely at fault. Apparently, both my parents feared I was no longer _normal_, whatever that was. Reassuring comments from my doctors such as "He's schizophrenic" "No, it's called Grande Hystérie" or my favorite "He's just plain crazy" kept me from leaving.

I just wanted to know what the big deal was. I felt completely normal, and yet medical doctors with seven or more years of training said there was something terribly wrong with me. I wanted to understand what made them think that.

And so as soon as I turned eighteen, when I would no longer need my parent's permission, I asked to undergo psychoanalysis. I also wanted to know why my parents forbade this as long as they could. How bad could it be?

At 4:00 PM exactly on a perfect summer day I entered the office of Central's most successful psychiatrist, Doctor Aduya. That was the one and only time I was not late for a meeting in the Medical Arts Building. In fact, that was also the final time I ever went back to that place.

I made myself comfortable on the couch and started this meeting like any other; with current events. "Things are really boring at my house right now. My dad left some time last week, but he should be coming back soon. And, of course, my mom's acting like none of this is happening. But what's stupid about this is that the people here – not even family members – are making this sound so bad. If we don't care about what's going on, why should _they_?"

Aduya wrote very little on her notepad and did not reply, so I continued: "Every doctor I met so far is like that. They exaggerate on every little thing about me. They think there's something wrong with me because according to them I'm not _normal_. What's that supposed to mean?"

"What do _you_ think it means?" the psychiatrist asked. "You have yet to mention any of your personal thoughts."

I shrugged. "I don't know . . . I feel normal, I guess. I know I'm not like a lot of other patients here. I don't have an excessive fear of anything. I don't see or hear nonexistent things. So . . . I don't see what my problem is."

"Exactly," Aduya replied. "You have quite a profile here, Kimblee. You detonate any little inconvenience or anything to your distaste. On several occasions, you threatened to start detonating humans. In this building alone, you've attempted homicide dozens of times and suicide, twice. You emotionally detach yourself from others, especially your parents. I'm sure you've been lectured countless times on why none of this is normal, but you're here today to find out _wh_y you are like this."

"But why is all that a problem?" I asked, still not fully understanding. "I'm well aware of everything I do."

The psychiatrist rubbed her temple and thought for a moment. ". . . Let's start with something simple. What is the oldest memory you can easily recall?"

"When I started alchemy about ten years ago. My first attempt was terrible, but once I got the hang of it, I inked these transmutation circles on the palms of my hands so I don't have to waste time like an idiot whenever I want to use alchemy." I gazed fondly at my nearly perfect circles. "Seriously, though. Who has the patience to draw out different circles with each use of alchemy?"

"Any other memories you would like to mention?"

A second memory suddenly came to mind. "My mom used to be an alchemist too, until my dad convinced her that _changing_ things is wrong. He hates alchemy since he can't do it himself. He yelled at her and beat her, maybe thinking that she was trying to be better than him."

"Was that before or after _you_ became an alchemist?"

I closed my eyes, trying to make a mental timeline, only to realize that my memories are as clear as fog in the night. Many parts were missing, especially background and nearly all color. But since they were all memories, I eventually saw myself in them. ". . . Before, long before." I finally answered. "I may have started alchemy just to spite them. I don't know."

"Do you at least know why you decided on destructive alchemy?"

I smirked and nodded. "That's easy. I do it for the hilarious expressions and the joy of hearing something being destroyed from the inside-out. Inanimate objects, animals – it doesn't matter. But _humans_ – yes, I have done that several times now – seeing those things detonate is simply amazing." I sighed, content with my nice little memories.

Aduya was not as shocked as I hoped she would be. "What makes you think that? That killing others is alright?" she asked.

"Because it makes so much sense. People are replaceable the way they usually are, but if they turn into living bombs and go boom – now _that's_ cherishable."

"Is that so . . ." the psychiatrist mused as she wrote some more on her notepad. "Sounds like an inferiority complex. But the actions you take imply much more. A serious childhood trauma, perhaps. After all, you haven't said much about your past."

"That's because there's not much to say. I've wasted most of my life here and nothing interesting ever happens at the place I live. At least nothing I can remember . . ." Damn it. I left myself wide open.

"Of course you wouldn't remember. If you're really schizophrenic or whatever else your doctors think you are, that makes perfect sense. I'll just have to make you remember. So tell me, exactly what happened between your parents before you started alchemy?"

I started with pointing out the obvious. "They had a lot of fights. My dad was always angry. My mom was becoming afraid. And I . . . I was just there." Where _was _I at that time? I was as curious as Aduya. "I know I couldn't have been anywhere else . . ." My head hurt from trying to think back too much. I saw nothing, except _ripping, shredding, tearing_. _Like fire?_ That thought kept on coming back. "Yeah, I guess that's when I first attempted alchemy."

"But you said your parents fighting happened long before that. Or was that a long period of time?"

"No . . . They were fighting because my mom was using alchemy, but she gave in rather quickly. . . Damn, that doesn't add up."

Aduya sighed. "At least we now know what time period to focus on. So, keep on talking."

"I don't know what else to say. I mean, how could there be a huge gap in my life that I can't remember?" _Ripping, shredding, tearing_ came back rhythmically. I saw myself back in my room ten years ago, livid due to my failure. Then my mom came in and told me to forget all this. Something clicked. "No, wait. That day I first attempted alchemy was also when my mom came back."

"From where?" Aduya immediately asked.

"She, she was somewhere else after giving in to my dad. Yeah, it was because she got really depressed, or something." I could not believe I was actually remembering so much. "I was left alone in the house most of the time after that. Because that's when my dad started going to wherever the hell he goes every so often. That's when he practically stopped talking to me, even to this day. We just started hating each other for some reason."

"Did he blame you for his marital problems?"

"No, I don't know." _Ripping, tearing, shredding_._ Like lightning?_ It was becoming a nuisance. "I'm guessing it was because I became interested in alchemy."

"So your story is: your father mistreated your mother, so you decided to start alchemy just to spite him."

"Yeah, that sounds right."

For some reason, Aduya was not pleased with my response. "I'm sorry Kimblee, but that does not explain your illness. There's more to it, and you know it."

"No I don't!" What the hell did she want from me? She had just put psychoanalysis and herself on my ever-growing hate list.

"Yes you do. Try to remember."

"What the hell do you think I've been trying to do?" I was genuinely pissed. And she just sat there on her chair, writing useless information on her notepad. I jumped off my seat to yell at her face-to-face. "There probably isn't anything to remember!"

"Kimblee, please–"

"Shut up! You're full of crap!" I wrung my hands around her neck to see her face distorted in shock. How pleasant. Then the sound of her body exploding drowned away all my anger. How soothing. All the tension built up from the room melted away along with her existence. Pretty fireworks always work much better than any form of therapy.

I left Central's Medical Arts Building feeling renewed, but there were still some little inconveniences preventing me from completely starting my life over. I had to get rid of them.

Aztec Goddess: So, how was it? Bleh? Meh? Neh? Please, I need to know!


	2. Anew

Aztec Goddess: Kimblee is so freakin' adorable! I can't believe there are people in this world who hate him! That's so mean!

Anew

My house was colder than usual. Perhaps it was because all the fans were on full blast and no lights were on. The place seemed abandoned, silent. I liked it that way. On any other day, I would immediately go up to my room, locking myself away from the already somber world. But I had big plans this day.

My mom was in the kitchen, exactly where she was before I left to meet and kill Aduya. She stood idly at the counter, butcher knife in hand, as if she has yet to decide whether to start chopping those vegetables in front of her or not. Since I had skipped lunch, I thought it would be alright to wait for her to finish. I sat myself at the kitchen table and stared lazily at her; her long black hair nearly touched the floor.

"You're early . . ." she said, almost too tired to move her lips. She started to chop the carrots, carefully, precisely. "You're always changing things . . ."

"You need to sleep," I replied, ignoring her remarks. That was how things worked at my house. My mom always had to be in her make-believe world, so whenever my dad left, she would have to keep herself awake so it would be like no days have passed for her. That was a feat easily accomplished with the help of my non-drowsy medications. _I_ had no use for them anyway.

She slowly shook her head then went on to the celery. "Hurry up. You want your only son to starve to death?" I asked, indifferently.

She shook her head again. "No, you can't be my Zolfy, you're too old. Zolfy was cute and very young."

"People tend to age."

"They shouldn't. No one should change." Her hand slipped – accidentally or purposely – that is all up to opinion. Soon the celery was painted with small red streaks originating from her index finger. She then discarded the food and focused her attention on her hand. As precise as usual, she made more cuts around her hand wherever she wished, without a single flinch. "Change hurts . . ."

Blood is so irritating; it stains, it leaves a mess. My mom continued to make more cuts, not seeming like she would ever stop. "Quit it, it's annoying," I told her. Amazingly, she actually listened.

"I know it's wrong . . ." she started, searching for the right words as she wiped her hand on the counter. "But I don't want to be your mom anymore. You're too much trouble. You do things that make people angry . . . and they always blame me or your father."

Yeah, I felt so loved. My mom completely abandoned the food and searched though the medicine cabined. "Your father should be home soon . . ." she mused as she searched through one empty bottle after another. I looked at the clock. 6:00 PM; she was right on cue. I wondered whether she remembered the last several times she said that without him actually coming yet.

"Could you at least finish _something_?" I said, mainly food in mind.

She looked disappointedly at the last empty bottle. Then she turned to me and smiled, "Be a good boy Zolfy, and ask Doctor Todome for a refill."

I almost laughed. Her odd ways always entertained me, even though I knew _she_ was the one that needed medical attention. But the older I got, the more I realized how bothersome she was. No wonder _he_ was always leaving.

"Mom," I started as I walked up to her and placed my hands on her shoulders. "Before I kill you, I would like to know what you think my problem is. After all, you can't really call _yourself_ normal, no?"

She stared off into space. "I won't be blamed for this, right?" The answer was a bit obvious. She continued, ". . . See? You've changed too much. But no, you wouldn't remember . . . You shouldn't." I figured that was all I would ever get out of her, so I quickened the transmutation. She was not at the least surprised or perhaps even aware of what was happening. But in an instance – _boom_ – she was gone.

That was when I laughed. Why? There was just something funny about the entire situation. Or maybe it was due to lack of nutrition. I scanned the inside of the fridge and actually found a sandwich _not _stained with blood. That was when I was certain that day was going to be a _very_ good day.

Chairs, tables; I amused myself with destroying the contents of my house, piece by piece. Lamps, doors; I had to do something until _he_ came home. One two, the clock was ticking faster than usual. Was I even hearing the clock ticking? One two one two. Something was rhythmic and coming closer. Steps. Yes, it was him.

My dad walked through the front door in a manner that implied he always did. "Where's your mother?" he asked me, paying no attention to what I was doing. He walked towards his room only to realize half of it was missing. He sighed. "Zolf, this isn't funny."

"Really? Well, I think so," I replied. "But too bad for you – you won't live to see my finished work." I advanced towards him, but he surprisingly put up a fight . . . kind of. He pulled out a gun and pointed it at me. I smiled and said, "You wouldn't."

"Don't be so sure of yourself, you mental patient."

Comments like that piss me off. Seeing that not even _he_ knew that after eighteen years was obviously worse. I stepped closer and said, "If you really hate me that much, you would have killed me a long time ago." He said nothing. Slowly, he let his hand fall back to his side. I laughed at his cowardice. "Good! Now stand still like a good firework."

"To do this to your own parents – that takes a lot of –"

"Skills," I finished for him, though I would never know nor care less about what he was really going to say. I killed him off quickly to make sure there would be time for another significant event. There was a very important occupation I had my eyes on.

* * *

The streets grew dark in a hurry. But a certain building was still clear in sight and it was not Central's Medical Arts Building. It was a building much larger and much more majestic than that. Central's Military Headquarters. I barged right through the front door, choosing to ignore the militants on guard around the building. They were not so happy about that.

"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?" one of them yelled as they chased after me.

"I think I'm going to be your superior soon," I replied. A man in uniform deserves an honest answer. Then again, since when am I not honest?

"You've got a lot of guts coming here just to say that," another militant said. Everyone else present looked just as apprehensive as him. I saw a secretary make a call – hopefully to someone of importance.

"No, I plan to stay and fulfill my promise." Just to see how they would react, I grabbed one of their rifles and blew it up. The man screamed in bewilderment then perhaps in pain since his hand was bleeding. Some people gasped in an annoyingly dramatic manner. "That's disappointing," I pointed out. "Aren't you people supposed to be prepared for anything?"

The other guard pointed his rifle at me. Twice in one day – I felt so special. "State your business here," he demanded, which was rather redundant since I already did. Before I gathered the patience to repeat myself, a door on the far end of the room opened.

As if programmed to be perfectly synchronized, the others present stood themselves straight up and saluted. I had to force myself from laughing at how silly they looked. I wanted to leave a decent first impression on the new arrival – it turned out to be the Fuhrer. And all this time I thought he never left his palace or summer house or whatever. Who would have thought he actually worked?

"I heard there's a problem here . . ." the Fuhrer started.

The man holding the rifle stumbled, "Sir – Fuhrer sir, I mean. This intruder, he –"

"Intruder?" I asked. Then I corrected him: "I'm here to become a State Alchemist under you, the great Fuhrer King Bradley."

"That bastard blew up my weapon!" the other guard whined. How rude.

King Bradley considered the situation for a moment then told the guard, "Go wash yourself off Private, you're an embarrassment." The guard left the room with his head hung low. What a loser. Then the Fuhrer turned to me and asked, "A State Alchemist, you say? What's your name?"

"Zolf J. Kimblee, eighteen, single, started alchemy at eight, no prior occupation, currently homeless, parentless, and I love to blow things up. Anything else you need to know?"

The Fuhrer looked amused. "No, I suppose that's good enough for now. Feel free to spend the night here – choose any vacant room on the next floor. We'll settle all the technicalities tomorrow if you don't mind."

"Not at all," I answered as if it really was my choice. But things were going great; I had no need to contradict the Fuhrer. Plus, the dumbstruck looks on everyone else's faces were priceless. It was like they thought I would not be accepted so easily . . . by the freakin' Fuhrer!

* * *

To be certified as a State Alchemist requires a written exam, several physicals, and a demonstration of skill. All the above are jokes, mockeries of one's intelligence, but they were easy so I have no real problem with them. First off, instead of an essay, I felt it more suitable for me to list all the things I have ever detonated. It took about twenty pages since I wanted to add some details. They accepted it.

They somehow already had my file from the Medical Arts Building, so they decided to skip the physicals, possibly fearing I would kill them if they touched me. Indeed, I would. So I went straight to the demonstration of skill. Only one word can describe that: fun.

To say it in the most articulate way, everyone else _sucked_. They all still made transmutation circles manually, so I beat them with flying colors, debris, and what-not. All of their work that took at least ten seconds to create was destroyed by me in half that time. I had to restrain myself from blowing up a human though – King Bradley warned me that I would get disqualified that way.

"Then what's the bright side of being part of the military?" I asked him. The main reason I wanted to join was because I knew when I detonated people, they would make it look nice and legal.

"The money, special privileges, and of course, anything goes at a time of war," he replied. He emphasized the last part. Then I remembered the tension building up in Ishbal. No wonder he was being so lenient towards me. They need State Alchemists to solve such disputes – the more the merrier.

I was presented with a fancy little pocket watch when I was certified. I clearly remember my first thought: _What the hell?_ After they explained its importance, significance, whatever, I was still not impressed. But apparently carrying it around made them happy and it would be so tragic if I depressed them by not accepting the trinket, so I inevitably did.

But the uniform, I easily accepted that even though the back looks a little like a dress. This is just nitpicking, though. Either way, I look good in it. I also look good with long hair, so I shall forever defy the "hair mustn't touch the collar" rule. No one pointed that out to me anyway, possibly fearing I would kill them. Indeed, I would.

There were many other positive parts about being a State Alchemist the Fuhrer forgot to mention, like my new room. It could kick my old room's ass anytime, especially now that it is dilapidated and all. My new room is like a house in itself, with everything I need in a convenient place. Edible food was where it belonged, clothes were where they belonged, and even mattresses were in their proper place. What a revolution. Seriously. And so I laid on my new comfy bed, feeling rather proud of all I accomplished in two days.

Aztec Goddess: Wow, this feels weird since I'm used to updating more than once a week. (sighs) Oh, well. Blame school – but it's good for you! (shifty eyes)


	3. Kelly!

Aztec Goddess: I dunno why; I just can't write a fan fic without using the name:

Kelly!

Blurry vision. Constant change of scene. It was that dream again

_I was much younger ,six or seven, laying on the kitchen floor, drawing. And my mom was cooking. For real this time. But everything was grey or brown and most of the appliances were missing. No table, no refrigerator, only one counter, but the stove was conveniently still there for my mom. "Mommy, why won't you teach me alchemy?" I asked, apparently trying to draw a transmutation circle._

"_Sorry, it's not for you, Zolfy," she replied in her normal voice. Not monotone._

"_It's 'cause of Dad," I spat. "It's not fair! He should just die then – it's not like it'll be a big deal." I stood up and the scene suddenly changed. I laid down on the living room couch next to my mom. Nothing else was in the room, except for starfish scattered on the floor._

"_Don't say things like that," my mom said, probably responding to what I said earlier._

_I hid my face on her lap. "But it's true. When someone dies, everyone else gets over it, like it never happened. So that means nothing matters."_

_She stroked my hair and replied, "Zolfy . . . absolutely _everything _matters. Haven't you heard the story of the men and the starfish?"_

"_Sounds stupid . . ."_

_The sound of waves could be heard. Then all I could see was the seashore full of starfish, but I still heard my mother's voice telling the story. "There was a man who walked along the seashore when the tide was low, when starfish would be pushed out of the water. He would grab one of those starfish and throw it back into the ocean. But every time the waves came back, ten more starfish would be pushed out of the water. So he would grab another, and another, yet more kept coming."_

"_So why was he wasting his time? Why would he even want to throw those starfish back if more kept on coming?" I interrupted._

"_That's what I'm going to tell you. One night, another man saw this, and he wondered the same thing. So he asked the man, 'What are you doing? You'll never put all those starfish back in the water.' The first man said, 'It's simple. If I leave the starfish here like this, they'll shrivel up and die.'"_

"_But who cares if a bunch of starfish die? They don't matter to anyone!" I saw myself appearing out of nowhere and walking up to the seashore, next to one of those starfish._

"_That's what the other man said. So the first man picked up a starfish and replied, 'It matters to this one.' And he threw it back into the ocean. And he picked up another and said, 'This one, too.' And he threw it back into the ocean. And he picked up another . . ." Her voice kept on repeating as I picked one up myself._

" _. . . Liar," I said to it. "You don't give a shit. And no one will notice _one_ missing-"_

A shrill, happy voice snapped me out of my dream. "Hey, newbie! Congratulations!" It sounded like a girl. She must have busted her way into my room somehow. What a lovely way to greet people.

"On what, waking up?" I muttered as I rubbed my eyes and sat up on my bed.

The girl wore the standard military outfit and she looked no older than me. Her long, curly brown hair was down and she had an odd look on her face as she tilted her head at me. "You're a guy, right? But your hair's all long and pretty . . . well, it's kinda messy now. And your clothes are all wrinkly and your eyes are only half open." Then she looked awfully amused, almost proud, when she stated, "People sure are ugly in the morning!"

"Yeah, that's great and all," I replied, "but if it's not too much trouble, I would like you to get the hell out of my room." I got out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

"Aw, but I just got here!" I heard her whine as I made certain the lock on the door worked. "I'm here to welcome the new fellow State Alchemist to this wonderful place where your superiors break you down and mold you into becoming the perfect little faceless unit capable of only following orders!" And people called _me _crazy.

I turned on the bath faucets, hoping it would drown out her voice, but it was futile. As I took a shower, she kept on talking: "I really hope you like this place! Usually, people try to _leave_ at a time of war, but as dogs of the military, it's our duty to pound, destroy, _rip, shred, tear_ our enemies into submission – or death. Whichever comes first!" Now _that_, I could agree on, but her choice of words seemed rather odd to me . . .

"Who are you anyway?" I asked.

"I'm called the Esuna Alchemist!" she declared. "My skills aren't very effective when it comes to killing our enemies but I'm still being sent to Ishbal since, well, I'm kinda invincible. It wouldn't matter if a billion enemies shoot at me – I'll still be able to take my sweet time killing them off the old-fashioned way. It's much more fulfilling that way."

"So I take it you specialize in regenerating or something . . ."

She giggled. "_Regenerating._ Such a fancy word! Starfish _regenerate_, y'know. I really hoped that would be my Alchemist name, but they chose_ Esuna_, whatever that means."

Now that was just plain creepy. It was as if everything she came up with had something to do with me. But it could just be a happy coincidence, so I chose not to dwell on it. I turned off the water, got out of the shower and . . . she was standing right in the middle of the bathroom like no one's business. I could no longer remain indifferent. "What the hell's your problem?" I yelled at her.

"Hey, looks like you're finally wide awake!" she said. "Now you can start your day! Oh, but you should put clothes on first."

"_No, really_," I retorted as I pushed her out of my way to get back to my room. The door was still locked. "Another one of your skills?" I mumbled, hastily opening the door and pulling out my undergarments and uniform from the closet. The Esuna Alchemist followed me, looking a tad confused.

". . . Did I make you mad?" she asked. "Sorry, but I only like talking to people when I actually see them. Did I go too far?"

"Only by a lot."

"Okay, let's start over then!" she chirped. "I'm Kelly Tiramen, the Esuna Alchemist!" She held out her hand. ". . . Hey, you gotta shake my hand and tell me _your_ name! That's like an unwritten rule!" She seemed completely oblivious to the fact that I was still pulling up my pants.

Once I completed my first mission – putting on my clothes – I shook the crazy girl's hand and said, "Zolf J. Kimblee. It's been a pain meeting you, Kelly."

Kelly giggled again. "Yeah, I get that a lot. By the way, what's your Alchemist name and what does the _J_ stand for? I like calling people by their full name."

"_Kimblee _is fine."

"Kelly's fine, too!"

Before I could even decide how to correct her, a phone rang. Since it was my room, I took the wild guess that it was mine, so I picked it up. "What?" I greeted the stranger.

"You will address me as the Iron Blood Alchemist or rather, Colonel Basque Grand." the man replied. "If you haven't been told yet, I'm your commanding officer."

"Okay."

"I expect to see you in my office today, newbie."

"And I suppose there will be conveniently placed arrows around this building to show me the way." I should have been less sarcastic, but I was not having a good morning.

"No. We don't have such luxuries in a war zone, so why the hell would we have them here?" He sounded less angry than I expected. "Since you made it as a State Alchemist, I'll rely on faith that you're intelligent enough to find your way." I immediately looked over at Kelly, who was staring intently at a small spider crawling up a wall. She poked at it over and over again, but somehow never killed it. That had to take a _lot_ of intelligence.

"Fine," I said, but the Colonel had already hung up. How rude. But I felt much better when I found breakfast in the fridge.

"So, who called?" Kelly asked, still staring curiously at the spider.

"That Colonel guy," I answered while stuffing my mouth with mini muffins. Wow, I forgot what good food tastes like.

"Colonel Basque Grand the Iron Blood Alchemist?" Kelly said a mouthful, and she had just started again: "Hey, I know him! He's my commanding officer, too! . . . I don't like him. He's ugly. And he sounds mean. But that's okay 'cause when we're out at war, I get to go off on my own!"

"So do you know where he is in this building?" I finished up some precious junk food and took a gulp from the milk carton.

"Uh . . . No. But I know how to find out! Clean up your face and let's get going!"

I was under the impression that Kelly knew her way around the building since she had supposedly been here much longer than me. After walking in circles for an hour or so, I knew I was wrong. "I know he's here somewhere," she kept on saying. Brilliant deduction.

"Admit you're lost," I kept on saying.

"_No!"_ she whined. Then her face lit up. I looked at her general direction and saw a serious-looking militant with black hair enter a room. "That room that guy went into has to be Colonel Basque Grand–"

"You seriously need to stop that."

"TheIronBloodAlchemist's room!" she defied me. Then she tugged at my sleeve. "C'mon! What if we're late?"

I did not budge. "I dunno. Basic reason skills state that just because a stranger walked into a room doesn't make it the room you're looking for."

Kelly gasped. "You dare say there's a flaw in my basic reasoning skills? How 'bout you prove me wrong then? Ha, I'd love to see that! You're gonna feel like an idiot when you see you're wrong!"

Just to shut Kelly up, we walked into the aforementioned room. The man with the black hair was standing, talking to another man who was sitting at his desk. And lo and behold, his name plate read _Colonel Basque Grand_. Kelly giggled at my dumbstruck expression.

"Nice to see you decided to join us, Crimson Alchemist," Basque said to me, holding out a small package.

"Who the hell came up with that?" I said, grabbing the package from him and opening it. It was a paper from the Fuhrer. Apparently, _he_ did. I found no drive behind naming me after a color when my specialty is blowing things up. And there was nothing crimson about it – my victims had no time to bleed. Whatever.

"Am I going to be working with this guy?" the black haired guy said with a hint of revulsion in his voice. And he was pointing at me. Militants never cease to be rude.

"That's for you two to decide, Flame," Basque replied. _Flame?_ Someone needs to come up with better names. "As long as you State Alchemists get your job done, I don't care how you go along with it. I called you here so you'd know in advance who you will be taking orders from when we head over to Ishbal."

"And when will that be?" I asked.

"In a week, or much less if things go my way."

Basque Grand must have been one happy camper because we left two days after that. It was at night, though. And it was cold and the train was just as bad and I ended up sitting next to that Flame guy.

"What brought you here?" he asked, trying to start a conversation, though I saw no point in it since he obviously already had something against me.

"Biologically, my parents did," I replied. "But they're gone now, which is why I'm_ here_."

"I hear you can make things explode . . ."

"Yes."

"So you can see why I have reason to believe you–"

"Blew them up? Yeah, thanks for putting two and two together. Judging by your disapproving expression, I suppose it's supposed to be a secret, so . . ." I shushed him.

He glared at me. "Someone like you shouldn't even be here."

"I'm sure we're not as different as you're making it sound."

He did not reply to that; wonder why. He turned his body completely against me and scooted as far away as possible.

"You're mean. You don't like me," I said indifferently, of course.

"Go to sleep," was all he said.

"I love you, too." Saying that made him twitch. Ha, I knew he wanted to laugh! As did I, but I was so freakin' tired. But the seats were terribly uncomfortable and the night was only getting colder.

I gave up trying to fall asleep when I felt something soft fall on my face late at night. It was followed by a familiar voice whispering behind me, "What does the _J_ stand for?"

"Get your hair out of my face, Kelly," I whispered back.

Kelly moved over and rested her chin in the headrest between me and the sleeping Flame Alchemist. "But I only know you as Zolf J. Kimblee the Crimson Alchemist. That's so incomplete . . ."

"Well, I'm pretty sure I'm also a Major. At least that's what the Fuhrer said. But seriously though, just call me Kimblee."

Kelly frowned. "Why don't you wanna tell me your middle name? Is it something really stupid that makes you think your parents just gave you it to torture you? After all, you've gotta admit _Zolf_ sounds really weird."

"Hey, shut up," I warned her.

"I bet that's it, though. I heard from people here you really hated your parents. Then you killed them, right?"

"Got a problem with that?"

"Not at all!" she replied enthusiastically but still keeping her voice down. "But I'd understand the situation better if you were ugly."

"What does that mean?"

"Parents don't like taking care of ugly kids. Everyone knows that," Kelly mused. " . . . Do you think _I'm_ ugly?" She stared at me with an anxious look on her face. What the hell? Where did the Kelly I first met go?

"I've seen uglier . . ." I said, unsure if that was reassuring. But thankfully (or so I thought), Kelly took it a good way.

"You're pretty, too!" she said. "Like a _girl_! Do you ever get that?" She never knew when to quit.

That was the longest night. Ever.

Aztec Goddess: For those of you wondering, I don't use the name Kelly with anyone in mind. There's just something about that name that I like. Oh, and I didn't get "Esuna" from Final Fantasy or anything like that.


	4. Ishbal

Aztec Goddess: Well, everyone knows it was a massacre, not war, so expect some unpleasantness here. I tried my best on direct quoting, but, yeah, that was really tedious. Had to do some research, and I found out Basque was a Colonel at this time.

Ishbal

I thought I should do something to prepare for D-day, so I sat myself on a box and started filing my nails. I was in the same tent as Basque, who was looking over at stuff the military must have stolen from the Ishbalans. We basically ignored each other. I was too busy thinking anyway.

What happened to that weird girl? She would not shut up on her way here, but when everyone else was wide awake, nothing got her to talk. Maybe she is afraid of people, but why not me? She freakin' has the balls to call me a girl! I should start calling her a guy then. No, wait, she will get all emotional and that was really awkward back at the train. I suppose I can kill her out in the battlefield if she bothers me again. Yeah, I see no problem with that.

Time was passing awfully slowly. "What are we waiting for anyway?" I asked, mainly to myself. I was still focused on my nails.

"Mustang and Marcoh should be coming soon with the materials the Fuhrer told us to use," Basque replied.

I already knew Marcoh was the old man who has been trying to make the philosopher's stone for the military – secrets never seem to stay what they should be. But . . . "Mustang?"

"Roy Mustang the Flame Alchemist. You've met him already."

I snorted. _Flame!_ That still sounds funny to me. "Oh, yeah. _Him_. He doesn't seem to like me. You think I can sue him for emotional distress?" I smiled at how perfect my nails were coming out.

Basque shrugged. "That's a thought. You'd have to prove it, though."

Then Flame and Marcoh came in. Marcoh had a suitcase for Basque and Flame had a glare just for me. Aw, how thoughtful. But Marcoh won when it came to giving because he also had a little speech for all of us. "Why, because of their doctrines the Isbalans have neither alchemists, nor up-to-date weaponry! Want them to demonize us is more? You think that's a long-term answer?"

"Did you bring the materials?" Basque said indifferently, ignoring Marcoh's touching and utterly annoying opinions.

"I did Colonel, but they're still under research," Marcoh answered. "And like I said, we don't need them."

"Have you not seen the reports? The resistance is growing," Basque countered.

"That's because your excessive use of force is creating sympathizers! It's easier for the Isbalans to recruit the other tribes!" Marcoh's whining was getting a tad too excessive.

"What are you trying to say? That our Fuhrer's great cause is unjust?" I said. I finished up my last nail, blew off the residue, and stared fondly at my work of art. Marcoh gave me a disturbed look and Flame was still glaring.

"We lost several thousand men; the civilian casualties are beyond that – the whole country is unstable," Basque explained for all of us. Hopefully, this would get through Marcoh's thick head. "This isn't a humanitarian summit, this is war. Now turn them over Crystal Alchemist – that's an order!"

Marcoh did as he was told to do. He opened up his suitcase for us to see the pretty little bottles containing pretty little red water. That was when Kelly came in, looking rather lost.

"Dominance in a bottle, men," Basque declared as he held up one of the bottles. "Alchemic augmentation. It's my job to end this war quickly and with this I can!" He had this really ugly look on his face when he said that.

"But this war doesn't make sense," Kelly argued weakly. "It's just a waste of the military's time, money, lives . . ."

Basque completely ignored her and headed out the tent with his share of red water. "You men coming or not?" he said as he left for the war zone. Flame took his red water and left at a fast pace. Marcoh meekly followed.

"_Men_ . . ." Kelly repeated. She looked over at the suitcase to see only one remaining vial. Mine, of course. I took it and poured the red water into my hands. It turned into a squishy substance until it became as hard as a gem. I saw it only natural to make a necklace out of it.

"You should learn how speak up to other people," I said to Kelly. Then I shrugged. "Unless you don't really want to be heard."

Kelly smiled. "It's okay; I'm used to being ignored! Except by you – you always answer back for some reason. So . . . are you ready to tell me what your middle name is? If not, then I can't call you by anything 'cause I don't like incomplete names."

"Then from now on, I'm nameless to you. Happy?"

Kelly frowned. "That's weird, though . . . like the things that's been happening here. I guess we really do have to end this quickly."

"Is it something I need to know?" I wondered as I started walking out of the tent. Kelly followed.

"No, the military prefers that no one knows all the bad things the can – and probably will do. But I bet that makes you want to know more, so I'll tell you!" I felt a long monologue coming. "As you could have guessed, we're very influential people. And that's a really bad, in fact _horrendous_ thing to those who oppose us. We can kill them off, no problem, but torturing them is more effective. I guess there's just something about forcing fathers to rape daughters and sons to rape mothers that strike fear into our enemies. Especially for the rest of the family, who are forced to watch. But don't freak out – that's not as common as it used to be! And there are other things too like-"

"Okay, I don't even care about stuff like that, so I think I've heard enough," I interrupted Kelly. But I had to admit, that was quite educational. I would have never guessed the military did such things as if it were normal. Made me wonder about Flame for a moment. If half of what Kelly said was true, I had something to shove in his face!

Kelly looked saddened. That girl just loves talking too much. "Oh, okay then. I'm gonna go check on our wounded people now. Well, good luck with destroying the Ishbalans." Then she left, leaving all the Ishbalans, their homes, and their lives all for _me_ to take!

To start things off, I got myself some little souvenirs. I blew up my way into the nearest house and that red water glowed all bright and pretty. I _felt_ the new power – normally I would need to put in some effort in obliterating half a building, but this was like nothing! I was almost not disappointed when I saw no one was home. But as I went through some drawers, I heard a woman scream. And of course I needed to see what was going on after I shoved the little trinkets I found on my pockets.

"You – men are horrible!" the woman choked on her words. I heard people laughing at her; most likely fellow militants. "Let my son go! Do what you want with me, but-"

"Cut the crap, lady," a militant told her. That was when I walked into the scene. A militant had an arm around a small, crying boy and a gun pointing to the side of his head. Two other militants had the woman restrained to the floor. And, oh yeah, she had a gun pointed to her head, too. These militants were _not_ State Alchemists.

"Hey, what the hell are you weaklings doing here?" I said to them. "This is _my_ territory now – by the Fuhrer's orders!"

"So you're one of those State Alchemists, eh?" one of them said. No shit, dumbass.

"Let us have our fun!" the one holding the boy said. "We've been fighting here a hell of a lot longer here than you have, so cut us some slack!"

"Yeah, those are some compelling arguments," I retorted, "But, y'know, we're kinda here to _kill_ the Ishbalans, not play with them." I was wandering around the room and found some coins on top of a table, and since I liked the designs, I pocketed them. The militants were continuing their perversions. One of them started lifting up the woman's dress. "Hey, don't ignore me or I'll kill you, too!" There was just something about the situation that bothered me.

"Fine, change of plans," the child predator growled. His gun went off, the boy screamed, the woman screamed, blood splattered to the floor, the woman freed herself, attacked the other militant; the boy hit the floor, more blood poured out – and he was still breathing.

"Wow, how elaborately pointless," I commented. The woman ran to her son's side. The other militants pointed their guns at them. "Look, you idiots couldn't even kill that kid. I've been patient long enough." I grabbed one of them and threw him to the others and, _boom_just like that, they were gone. Needless to say, the woman was scared shitless.

"Ishbala . . ." the woman murmured as she cradled her son whose eyes were not yet glazed. Blood was everywhere – now that was _really _ bothersome. "What have we done . . .?"

"Nothing, as far as I know," I replied. "So, you're done praying or whatever?" I took her silence as a yes, so in a blast, I killed them, too. See? I can be nice, caring, generous – but how easily they died inspired me. I wanted to see how quickly I can destroy so much. Personal goal: everything in five minutes.

I walked out of the dilapidated house and looked around to decide how to start the bombing. Oh, if only the houses were lined up in neat rows. I grabbed a civilian that crossed my way and was only able to destroy two more closely-build houses with him . . . or her. Yes, that was fun, but too slow.

I had another idea. I busted into another house and – score! It was some sort of shelter for the kiddies. Other non-alchemist militanst were already there, so I told them, "The Fuhrer wants me to count the hostages, so I need them to stand in a line outside." And they had to ask why. "Because it's the only way I can see which ones we should keep." No further questions asked, we escorted my new victims outside. I manually moved the little confused Ishbalans to form a line down the street. Unbeknownst to them, they were already ticking time-bombs.

"What the hell is this accomplishing?" one of the militants asked me.

"You guys should move closer to this house," I told them. And I helped them to their place. Then I backed off from them. Some of the kids had started crying and moving from their place, calling for their parents. But it was too late for all of them. Like a beautiful domino effect, they started exploding one by one, dying anything around them, namely buildings. Now that was awesome, but it still took too long.

Then I got a better idea. I found myself a nice platform where I could see most of Ishbal, clasped my hands on the ground, and . . . wow. Buildings popped as easy as grapes, people were screaming, dying, some of which probably more stupid militants lagging behind. What a beautiful sight, music; the most fun I had in years!

Almost nothing could be seen through all the dust in the air for a while. But before long, it was obvious half of Ishbal was gone. I saw absolutely nothing left in front of me . . . except little moving specs in the distance. Some Ishbalans have been trying to leave – tsk, tsk. I made my way to them, destroying what little was left in my area.

There were much less of them than I expected. And the main guy was really old. How so not cool – the war was already over for me! Well, I had to do something fun. I made my dramatic entrance with another explosion, dust shooting up and all. "Hello," I greeted them, but all they did was gasp and scream in response. Except for the old guy – maybe he was blind. I killed him right away and others died along with the explosion.

The remainders did not look very proud of me. Too bad for them, for I had another brilliant idea! One of these Ishbalans stood out from the rest. No, not the one covered in tattoos; the one talking. I was too busy sorting out my ideas. Limbs should go first; that would be funny, but what about the neck, or maybe make holes? Nah, I chose the classic way – from top to bottom. "I want to destroy you piece-by-piece," I told him. "I'll start with your _face_!"

I mindlessly flicked the Ishbalan on the forehead with a finger, causing parts of his skin to bubble and shoot up. This formed a perfect x-shaped scar on his face . . . _too_ perfect . . . weird. Oh, well. This guy was not – or could not fight back, so I grabbed one of his arms next. It fell off so wondrously and none of the remaining Ishbalans even tried to help him.

But then I heard some yelling, and it was not one of the Ishbalans. I think Basque was calling us back. I looked over at my victims; the maimed one was pretty hopeless and the others already looked dead. I guess I was done. I went to see what Basque wanted.

He looked so funny! Guns were coming out of his body and he was still shooting at some civilians. "What the hell do you want?" I asked him. "Are we done or what?"

"_You_ are," he said. "You exceeded your quota, as a matter of fact."

"Oh, so there are still more things to destroy?"

Basque was finished with his overkill, so he turned back to normal. "Not for you. And I've already heard many reports on hundreds of missing militants. Care to explain that?"

I shrugged. "Will a '_whoops'_ suffice?" Then I noticed that there was, in fact, a small area left for me to destroy. And I saw some militants were bringing over captive Ishbalans. I ignored Basque and went towards them. But I heard a click from one of his guns behind me, so I stopped. "Hey, why are you being overdramatic now?" I said, still with my back turned to him.

When the others came, they had guns pointed at me, too. Am I a freakin' magnet or something? "Yeah, that's the guy who was killing our men," one of them said.

"Why, I'm crushed! What proof do you have of that?" I asked.

"Don't take us as idiots," Basque spat. "Now you can surrender and be sent to prison or die here." Yeah, like I had a choice. But what really pissed me off was that they took away my souvenirs! How cheap is that?

Aztec Goddess: Damn, my timing's off now 'cause apparently tomorrow's episode is . . . yeah . . . And where are the reviewers? I'm so lonely. T.T


	5. Greed

Aztec Goddess: Whoa, I've been so distracted lately . . . So many new video games! Anyway, I'm shifting to present-tense in this chapter 'cause, well, it's the present now.

Greed

How long have I been here now? Weeks, months, _years_? You tend to lose your sense of time when you are stuck in a single cell with no clock or anything much for that matter. The only way I can tell that time truly passes is the occasional guard coming in and giving me a pile of crap to eat. No, not literally, but more or less. And that girl visited me one day. I think she slipped into my cell without anyone noticing.

"Hello, Nameless!" she greeted me. "Isn't it odd that all the other State Alchemists got promotions whereas you were thrown in here? We all practically did the same thing. So, what's gonna happen to you? Capital punishment? Torture? Or are you gonna be used as a guinea pig of some sort?" She sat herself on the floor next to me as if expecting me to tell her a great story.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I said

She gave me a blank stare. "No one else wanted to visit you, so I thought it'd be nice to come over and see how you're doing." Then she whispered, "Are the things people say about prison true?"

I shrugged. "I wouldn't know. If you take the time to look, you'll see that this is a _single_ cell."

She looked around curiously. "Oh, so it is." Then she stared intently at me. "Wow, you look terrible. You should tie your hair back with something. But, yes! You can still pass as a girl! A really old one, though. What's your middle name?"

"You're never going to get that out of me, so quit trying."

She pouted. "You're mean! You should be nice to me! And things are getting boring, so why can't you blow yourself out of here? You have enough power, right? . . . Wait, where's the material you got from Marcoh?"

I felt around my neck. Weird; I never noticed the entire necklace was missing. "Basque must have . . . no, wait . . ."

She gasped dramatically. "You lost it! Oh, everyone's gonna be so mad at you!"

"Shut up – _something_ happened to it . . ." I was surprised I seriously forgot for a while. But then I remembered that tattooed Ishbalan. He always seemed so out of place in my memories as if he was never really there. I thought I blew him up right away, but that was an older guy . . . That tattooed guy had something to do with the material's disappearance. Yeah, it just disappeared . . . I think.

"You don't remember, do you?" the girl said. She looked scared for some reason. "Do you remember when we first met?"

"Yeah, it's kinda hard to forget when a stranger walks into your bathroom when you're naked."

She gave me an odd look. "No . . . I've known you way before that day! You don't remember, huh? Aw, that's sad. No wonder you won't tell me your middle name. You've probably forgotten that, too!"

That was a lie. I have never forgotten and will always remember my middle name. But I told the girl, "Yeah, that's it. You saw right through me – I'm impressed!"

"You're lying!" she whined loudly. "You're so hopeless! You deny what little you actually _do_ remember!" Then she calmed down. "But I guess it's okay to forget the stupid little meaningless things, like your time in prison here. Yeah, _forget all this!_ But I still don't understand why you haven't tried to escape yet."

"I don't have all the ingredients, unless you'd be so kind as to lend me some of your body parts."

She giggled. "That sounded funny! But no, I would never die for _you_! I bet you don't even remember my name!"

"Sure I do . . . Kelsey."

"_Kelly_ Tiramen the Esuna Alchemist!"

"Yeah, that's what I meant."

Kelly looked so flustered. "Hmph! I'm leaving. See you around if you don't die here." And, as if it were nothing at all, she stood up, opened the seemingly locked door, and left. And I actually did check to see if the door was locked. It was. How does she do that?

And that is as much as I can remember so far. It turns out I am, in fact, planned to be used as a guinea pig of some sort. All of the prisoners and I have been round up in a little room with glass as walls. Looks like that red water I grew so fond of. I sit myself in the middle of the room as the others walk around confusedly like wet chickens.

One of the glass walls slides up and Basque emerges between us and the real exit. He looks at us with disgust, placing his hands on his hips. "Amazing," he says. "After thousands of years of evolution you human beings remain as vile a creature as you ever were." He walks away with his chin up high and the wall goes back down. . . . How _gay_ was that? Either Basque changed too much over the years, or that was not him at all.

"And who does he think he is?" one of the convicts asked.

"Some kind of high-up military muckety-muck." Another one said.

I start to laugh. Not only did that guy say a funny word, but his answer was way off. I reply, "I find it absolutely adorable that you believe everything you see. But that thing is definitely not the Brigadier General Grand."

I think that was too much for them to comprehend. Now all these stupid convicts are trying to get themselves out, screaming for help – pointless things like that. "Will you people shut up already?" I kindly ask.

"Gah, you can drop the monk act and admit you're scared," one of them rudely tells me. "Even a head case like you who's killed his own men has to realize he's helpless in here, Crimson Alchemist." Does everyone know me now?

I want to see how well these strangers know me. "You've been gossiping. But yes, I did kill my men, but do you know how?"

"Yeah, you blew them all to hundreds of little pieces with explosives." Aw, wrong answer. Now I have to kill him.

"_Explosives_?" I repeat as if it was an insult – which it is. "I've never relied on anything like that." I show off my transmutation circles. "Did you know that though the human body is made mostly of water, it's also comprised of small metallic particles?" I press my hands against his body and start pushing him to the wall. "Intriguing, isn't it? By reshaping them with basic organic compounds, a skillful alchemist can easily transmute a person into a human bomb." This asshole is not even listening to my beautiful speech! Instead of looking at me, his eyes are rolling to the back of his head and he foams at the mouth as his body shakes violently. But this puts a smile on my face, so I am happy. "And taking into account the abundance of red water we're surrounded by, the reaction will be even greater."

I slam the convict against the wall and as expected, the red water reacts. It rushes to his body and a huge explosion commences. The others scream like dying monkeys as I casually ditch them. I throw off my shackles and walk around aimlessly, not quite knowing where I am or how to get out. Which walls should I explode then?

"Hey, that's the Crimson Alchemist!" I hear someone yell. The familiar sound of guns clicking followed. Those poor militants never expected what was coming – neither did I. A blonde man . . . wait, _woman_, sprang out at them. She must have come from the ceiling. How convenient! She slaughters the militants for me with her knife; decapitating, disemboweling them. I watch in amusement.

Then I hear more people coming. I turn lazily to see some freaks led by a man in black. He carries around this annoying air of self-importance the way he stands. Why the hell is he smiling at me like that? I grimace. "What?" I said. If they expect something from me because that blonde killed some retarded militants, they have nothing but pretty fireworks to look forward to.

"Hello there, I'm Greed," the man said in a funny accent. "Care to join us?"

"In what?" I said.

"I'm here to help my fellow men," he replies. "Call me a messiah, if you like." I rather not. "If you join me, you will have all you need and get all you want." But what the hell is he expecting in return?

"Well, if you insist," I said. If he does not live up to his words, I can always kill him, right?

And so Greed and the freaks – upon further inspection, I can see they are _chimeras_: still freaks – take me to the front of what looks like a crappy little pub in the dark side of the city. "This looks like a nice place," Greed says as he cracks his knuckles, then he tells us, "Let's bust in there and take it."

I know they will not be happy if I fight alongside them and end up blowing up everything, so I walk in last and take my place against a wall to watch. The place is packed with drunkards and others that look like convicts and they all pull out their weapons, mostly guns, as soon as Greed and the others started their assault.

It is quite an interesting show. That blonde can extend and bend her limbs in a creepy way, which is how she is crushing the necks of two guys at once. Another chimera has horns growing out of his head like some sort of animal, and he is fighting like one, too. He takes in some bullets, but does nothing more than brush the blood off. Another chimera has a sword, which I must admit he uses well. None that cross him have the time to shoot; their heads are already rolling in the pool of blood.

"Stop or I'll call the police!" the owner yells, revolver in one hand, a phone in the other. What an idiot! Has he not been watching the slaughter? I can understand why he may not _hear_ the customers' dying over all the gunshots going off, but nothing should be affecting his _sight_. Oh, wait. The swordsman has just slashed his face open. His revolver goes off and several bullets shoot through Greed, who is busy trying to free his hand from another dying customer's skull.

"What the hell was that?" Greed hisses as he tries to look at his back where the bullets went through. Now this part is weird. A few moments later, the bullets plop out of his body and the holes they left disappear. "Hey, who's the bloody idiot that shot at me!" Greed manages to throw the corpse stuck to his hand to the ground and stares accusingly around the room filled mostly with dead bodies.

"Sorry, Greed," the swordsman replies. "I already killed him." He points to the corpse missing half his face.

"Oh, okay. I suppose that's alright – hey! Don't let anyone leave!" Greed yells at my direction since I am the one closest to the door. "We can't have any live witnesses!" I guess I really do have to do something. A customer tries to run past me, probably thinking I mean no harm because I have yet to fight, so I yank one of his arms and before he hits the ground, he explodes. The customer behind him gets caught in the explosion and loses parts of his upper body. He still lives, though. Greed walks up to that customer and finishes him off by crushing his skull with his bare hands. I notice that Greed's hand is completely black and his fingers now look more like knives.

"So you _can_ fight, huh?" Greed says to me, taking the customer's black glasses away and wiping the blood off onto his pants. "You're what, an alchemist?"

"Yes, and you are . . .?" I eye his hand. It turns back to its usual shape and color. He has a small red tattoo on it; it looks like a simplistic dragon around some triangles.

"A homunculus," he replies, putting the glasses on himself. That word rings a bell, but I am still not certain, so I raise an eyebrow at him. "Y'know, a _created human_," he explains. "A lot of people like to say _living doll_, but that pisses me off. I'm basically just like you minus a soul; plus better things like a prolonged life and stuff."

Suddenly, two policemen come into the building. One of them says, "There's been reports of excessive screaming and-" he stops, shocked at the sight of so much blood and corpses. The other one begins to reach for his gun.

I get a glance from Greed, and taking it as a signal, I walk up to the policemen and rest my hand on their shoulders. "I'm so sorry you men had to see this," I lie then blow them up.

"Hey, that's great!" Greed says to me. "You mind doing that to all the other casualties – after we take all their belongings, of course."

I smile, mostly to myself. "It'll be my pleasure," I reply. I finally realize why the others were so keen on killing the people here in a decapitating manner – everything that was once theirs is now ours, including their clothes. Seeing that none of us have money yet, I guess this is the only logical thing to do. I pick out a nice crimson suit; finally, something that matches my alchemist name!

After all the looting and explosions, I walk to a backroom and see that this crappy pub is much bigger than I first though. I find myself in a corridor with dozens of rooms on either side, so I pick one out.

It feels like the time I got a room at Headquarters when I first became a State Alchemist. But my newest room is smaller and looks much older. Oh, well; at least I have my own bathroom again. I thought I would never shower in peace again! I take my sweet time getting the stench of prison food and blood off of me and getting rid of that annoying stubble on my face.

I find scissors conveniently placed inside the drawer in my room and a mirror hanging above it on a wall. After I put on my new outfit – which still has bloodstains on the shoulders, but I can clean that later – I start planning out a critical life-changing decision: what should I do with my hair?

Should I go with bangs? No, that would annoy me. What if I chop it all off? Hell no – that would be a tragic waste! But I need to look different just in case a militant who knows me waltzes into this pub. . . .Aha, a mullet – and I shall make it look _good_! And so I cut my hair accordingly, short in front, and I tied the rest back with ribbon I found. I am now convinced that this is no normal pub; there are chains, cuffs, and, um, lubricant in this drawer. I guess I have to do a lot of cleaning before I can sleep peacefully here.

As I spike up my hair the way I want it, I sense something odd in the room, and I have a good idea on what it is. How long has she been here? I turn towards the door and say, "You need to learn how to not walk into someone's room without permission." As expected, I see Kelly by the door.

She ignores me and says, "Wow, you look so pretty! And yet your look has changed so much! I'm so happy you escaped from prison!"

"May I ask how the hell you keep on finding me?" I wanted to comment on _her_ looks, but she looks no different than when I first met her. The saying must be true: women stop aging after a certain age.

"I followed the sound of explosions," she replies, then starts walking around freely in my room. "That guy Greed I met in the main room helped you, right? He's pretty, too!"

"Then go bug _him_." I motion her back towards the door.

She blushes. "I can't do that – I already saw a girl with him! Aw, and he seems so nice! I mean, he gave _you_ a place to live and all these new things." She sighs and stares off into space. "He must be a great guy . . ."

"Listen, as much as I absolutely love hearing this crap, you should be telling _Greed_ that." I nod towards the door, hoping my message is not too subtle.

She stares at me right in the face and suddenly has this look like she struck gold. "There's an eyelash on your cheek!" she practically cheers. Okay, I cannot say I expected that.

I wipe the eyelash off my cheek and it stuck to my finger. "Here, you can have it." I grab her hand and wipe the eyelash onto her palm.

Kelly manages to look even crazier when she squeals with glee and holds my eyelash close to her heart. She closes her eyes and says, "I wish for Nameless to one day be as kind and caring as Greed." Then she holds the eyelash close to her mouth, blows it off her finger, and watches it fall to the ground. She sees my odd expression and says, "What? You've never wished upon an eyelash before?" She squeals happily again and bounces like a girly-girl out my room.

I lock my door and do not even bother to check twice. It seems as though the laws of locked doors do not apply to Kelly. Maybe she is a homunculus? I never thought of that before, but opening locked doors sounds too retarded to be a special power. But it will explain why she still looks so young and she has told me once that she can regenerate . . .

Aztec Goddess: Sigh . . . this took longer than expected. And I really wanna finish this by New Years! I've already got an idea for my next fic . . . or maybe _fics_?


	6. Betrayal

Aztec Goddess: Bleh . . . I'm so freakin' sick right now. What a craptastic way to start the new year. Well, hopefully, this chapter isn't too flawed since the last time I saw the episodes here was a billion years ago in Japanese.

Betrayal

Things are getting too bland at the place Greed has called Devil's Nest. I expected action to be more constant like my first day here. But it sounds like Greed is the only one getting some "action" – the kind I do not care for. However, if a girl pays me money to _kill_ her, I would definitely find joy in that. So, yes, I am perverted, just not sexually.

The only women that come by nowadays are drunken hoes that occasionally mistake Marta (the blonde I mentioned earlier) as a man. But that is understandable. Oh, and Kelly comes along too just to stare at Greed, being too intimidated by the barrage of bitches that hover around him. This is the only time I see her out of her military uniform; she wears instead a black suit that probably belongs to a man.

But today seems to be going along a bit different than expected. Greed wants us to kidnap this little boy that the military has already kidnapped from someone else, I think. I was the first to volunteer since this sounds like a good excuse to go around exploding people. And that is exactly what I do to enter the HQ – grab a random guard and explode him to make a hole in the wall. Well . . . it would have been more enjoyable if that stupid chimera here to "help" me would stop laughing like an idiot. He is so annoying and ugly – it depresses me. But I live on.

My grand entrance was not as noticeable as it should have been because it sounds like the other party is already here and attacking everyone in search for that little boy. But I eventually explode my way to them, killing others along the way, enjoying their screams and ignoring the ecstatic Kelly in the background cheering that I am finally a State Alchemist again. Hmm . . . not a bad idea.

And now I am facing the Fuhrer and others . . . the big guy I recognize as a fellow State Alchemist who also slaughtered some Ishbalans, but the rest are unfamiliar. A short blonde kid has just referred to me as a bastard and I take no offense because, well, I chose to be that. But the other State Alchemist is talking about how I should be dead, which I find quite rude. Aw, all I did was make people go boom – his tactics were similar!

One pointless thing leads to another; the lady holding a kid – which seems to be the one I am after – tries to escape, the Fuhrer swipes the kid from her and leaves, the State Alchemist attacks the lady, they all start fighting against one another, even the chimera gets a shot at the short blonde, and I feel so left out. Then another odd person present with blue armor catches my attention.

"You have an interesting body," I compliment him as I grab one of his sides. He freaks and moves away before my transmutation is complete. Only smoke came out . . . that was weaker than usual.

The short guy almost slices the chimera's tail to free himself and starts acting like he knows me. I must have been made famous or something – being thought as dead has its perks! But needless to say, I failed to complete my mission and the HQ looks in really bad shape, so I start to leave. That useless chimera had already ran back to Greed crying and I just stand by the entrance, pissed. "To hell with this," I say. "It'd be easier if I blew this whole building up." Then I hear a familiar click.

The unfamiliar militant I saw a second ago has his gun pointed at me. Wow, how astonishingly unoriginal. He introduces himself as Lieutenant Colonel Frank Archer and proposes that I reenlist into the military under certain conditions. That sounds great, but the way he smiles and says, "I can make it happen," . . . I hated that. But I agree to his terms anyway. Greed and the others have seriously been pissing me off lately.

I start to hate them even more as the days pass. We leave Devil's Nest more often now but it is nothing more than a huge waste of time for me. After all, Archer wants a certain other alchemist to be reenlisted and he never goes outside. His name is Shou Tucker and by far he is the ugliest thing that was ever dragged into Greed's gang. His head is upside-down, his chest is on his back, and he has two pairs of arms. I never talked to him much, but I know he ended up this way by trying to recreate his daughter, whom he pretty much killed. Touching story, no?

Anyway, I know I should drag myself along to wherever Greed and the others go to not seem suspicious. It sucks. We meet two other homunculi that look like women and Greed attacks the skimpy one. I get to stand idly and do nothing. We go to an old hag's house to assault her. The only thing I get to do is throw a rock at that short blonde guy I met earlier. Greed says we cannot kill him, which thoroughly convinces me that what I chose to do at HQ is the right thing. Now to spring it up on Greed at the worst possible moment.

Today is the perfect day. Greed and his retarded friends have captured that blue armor thing and they are all conveniently gathered in one room while I work at the bar, getting the customers drunk, waiting for some militants to show up. I get Tucker to come back to the military rather easily. But he is still faking to be on Greed's side. I, on the other hand, have already called for reinforcements to destroy Devil's Nest and thought of another great idea. You see . . . there is this thing Greed guards as if his life depends on it, which I am guessing it does. It is locked neatly in a little safe in his room but he is not in there at the moment.

The militants should be coming soon, so I sneak away into Greed's room, cautiously not touching anything there but the safe. I destroy the lock on it with no problem at all and take out the bag hidden inside. And before I know it, gunshots; doors break open, windows shatter, customers scream, people falling, probably dying since the screams are lessening. Some militants barge into the room I am in and I greet them with a friendly, "Hello." They recognize me even though I have never seen any of them before, so they lower their weapons.

Archer comes in and asks, "What do you think you're doing?"

I take a peak inside the bag and see a skull. This must have been Greed's back when he was a human. Yes, Greed went into full details concerning homunculi once. What an idiot – now I know his weakness. I toss the bag to Archer. "We'll need this to keep the plan in motion."

I lead Archer and the militants to where Greed and the others are and finally get some appreciation for my entrance. Everyone is looking at me and Greed is dumbstruck, noticing we have his skull. Wow, this is the first time I see him scared. What a pleasant surprise. And then they all run away like wet chickens. I kind of do regret that; letting Greed escape, I mean.

And so Archer now has me and Tucker on his side, so he is happy. And we are heading East – my favorite place since Ishbal used to be in that direction and now we are going to destroy another primitive place called Lior, so I am freakin' dandy. That is, until that weird girl figures out where my new room is, which I know she will.

Almost as soon as I think that, she barges into my room, looking rather pissed. That new expression on her does not suit her well. "You asshole!" she yells. "I heard what you've done! What the hell gave you the idea to declare an attack on Greed and his friends?"

"What's the problem?" I ask. "He's no relation to you. You know, maybe he would have at least noticed you if you wore girl's clothes."

She backs off, her anger subsiding. ". . . Things don't work that way for me. He wouldn't have seen me anyway."

"What, you're a ghost now?" Then I remember what I really think she is. "You wouldn't happen to be a homunculus?"

She lowers her eyes at me. "You're an idiot if you haven't figured it out yet." She advances on me and smiles. "So you really don't know. How tragic."

I push her away. "What are you getting to, you head case?"

She giggles. "_You're_ the head case! And do you know why?" She pulls out her gun and points it at me.

I roll my eyes. This is getting old. "You wouldn't."

She smiles sadistically and says, "Don't be so sure of yourself, you mental patient," mimicking my father's voice perfectly.

I back away without knowing it. ". . . Oh, I see. You're that homunculus who can-" Before I finish, she pulls the trigger. I hear the gunshot, but I feel nothing hit me.

"I'm no homunculus. I'm no ghost. I'm no human, either," she says, pulling the trigger again. This time, I do see the bullet hit me – it leaves a mark on my new uniform, but still . . . nothing. "You still can't figure it out?"

"What the hell . . ." I can feel the bullet hole with my hand, but there is no pain.

"Let me put it in words you can understand – words you've used." She then mimics my own voice. "I find it absolutely adorable that you believe everything you see."

Okay, things are getting too weird now. "How did you know . . .?"

"I know as much as you do," she replies indifferently. "No more, no less. But I really do want to know more, and I'm not leaving until you figure it all out."

Her little tricks are getting really annoying. It is nighttime already and she is making me miss my chance to kill some militants. I think I should start with her tonight. "Leave me alone, you nosy little bitch." With one hand, I slam her against the door and begin the transmutation. Once again . . . nothing.

"You can't kill me that way, dumbass!" she laughs. "I'm telling you: I'm not leaving until you figure it all out. So tell me, _Zolf Javan Kimblee_, what's your problem with your middle name? Is it because that's your dad's name? Why did you hate him so much?"

I let go of her, giving up on the transmutation. "Lucky guess."

She shakes her head. "It wasn't a guess. I also remember the first time you attempted alchemy. Man, I though you would never stop crying! But you were little and the window did quite a number on you."

I back away even further. "That's not even possible! Who the hell told you?"

She ignores my question and continues: "And before that, you started noticing your mother going crazy – you should thank her for your schizophrenia – it's genetic. She ran away once, remember? When your dad made her feel like a freak for being an alchemist. You were left all alone with your dad. Remember that?"

"Shut up already! Who the hell are you?" I yell.

Kelly's expression goes completely blank. She shrugs. "If you don't know, how do you expect _me_ to know?"

"This is bullshit – get out of my way." I shove her away from the door and leave and a guard rudely interrupts me. He seems to know about how Archer reenlisted me.

"We can't let you be seen, Kimblee!" he says as he tries to make me go back into my room.

"Why not? At least let me play by night." . . . This bastard. He caught me in a really bad mood. I was about to make him explode right then and there, but another interruption occurred.

"KIMBLEY!" Marta comes out of nowhere. Aw, she misses me already.

"Hello there," I greet her. She already has her arms wrapped around my own and trying to get her knife through my neck. Too bad for her I am not up to dying. I see that blue armor thing again and yell at it, "Hey, you're going to let her kill me?" And to my surprise, the armor thing comes to my rescue. Once freed, I grab that stupid guard and throw him at Marta for being so mean.

After the explosion, I see that both Marta and the armor are still alive, but on the ground, a story lower than me. Hmm, that guard left a huge hole in the building. Oh, well, it was his fault, not mine. I jump down and attempt to finish them off, really looking forward to seeing how the armor will explode. But I did not expect that thing to know alchemy.

I end up in a really crappy position, boxed in by walls the armor made using the ground. And lucky me – I had accidentally set one of the walls up for demolition and I get caught in it. But I did learn an important lesson about exploding walls: they hurt like crap! "You devious little bastard," I scold the armor as I crawl out of the rubble that was left by the walls. Now, I swear, I will do anything and everything to make sure I make that thing explode.

A familiar face comes by – that _Flame_ guy! Why is he never happy to see me? In fact, he arrests me! "And after all the nights we spent together," I pout as he angrily drags me to Archer's office, not even caring that I am bleeding. Archer must have heard what I said, because he is giving me this odd stare, along with Flame. I have a good idea on what they are thinking, so I say, "You perverts! I feel violated."

"But weren't you the one who said-" Archer starts, but Flame interrupts him.

"Don't even respond when he says things like that. That's just how he is." Why does everyone act like they know me so well? Weirdos. I stand idly and smile, just to confuse them further.

Aztec Goddess: I think Kimblee's real middle name is as real as Scar's brother's name, so I just pulled out a Bible to look for one since there are a lot of J's in there. "Javan" means deceiver; one who makes sad . . . It's also the Hebrew word for Greece. Makes you wanna think.


	7. Incubus

Aztec Goddess: Wow, turns out my timing wasn't as off as I thought. Adult Swim took a long time to get this far in the series, which is why I had to wait a while to post this because I didn't want to risk spoiling anyone. And keep in mind I really do love Zolfy, but hey, a happy ending is impossible for him.

Incubus

And so after a long boring argument between Flame and Archer about whether or not I should be dismissed, jailed, executed, or whatnot, they agreed that the Fuhrer should decide. Archer says he will send me to him shortly, so Flame leaves. My mind had been somewhere else in the meantime. I wonder when I could see that blue thing again . . . _Al_, I believe. A pun to _aluminum_? Cute. I wonder what kind of bomb he will make . . .

"Why'd you leave your room?" Archer asks me.

I have no good excuse of course, so I tell him, "I wanted to see Al. We're good friends."

"You tried to destroy him." That bastard sees right through me! Oh well, it was obvious. "Listen; don't get involved with the Elrics. They're too ambitious – it'll just be inconvenient."

"Who's the other one?"

"You met him at Southern HQ –"

"Oh, the short blondie! I remember . . ." Greed wanted to see him and I threw a rock at him. And all this time I was led to believe my memory sucks. "He doesn't look like much."

"He's the youngest ever to become a State Alchemist so there must be much more to him."

"Oh, good for him. So where's the Fuhrer?"

Archer tells me to go to Tucker's little lab. The Fuhrer comes along and basically tells me to attack Lior. I refrain from leaping for joy, mainly because the wounds I got from my own explosion earlier are still bothering me. Anyway, now I must recruit an army of chimeras – decent ones, unlike humanoids such as Marta. These chimeras are kept in cages and they look adorable, unlike the others I had to deal with.

"So, which ones are the good ones?" I ask Tucker as I browse through the cages, knocking on the bars, waking the chimeras up. They snarl and curse at me. Wow, they can talk. So can I.

Tucker calms them down by whistling, then he replies in his odd whisper, "They're all good enough. The question is how many do you need?" I do not reply right away since I do not know the answer, so he goes to a backroom to tend to his almost-daughter thing when he really should be working on that one red-stone-alchemist-watch thing. I forget. Anyway, I am left, seemingly alone, to poke at the chimeras and choose favorites.

I crouch down and take a good look at a really angry one trying to bite its way out of the cage. It almost looks like a dog with slick scales going down its back. "I suppose it doesn't matter if you're useless or not," I muse as I swiftly move a hand close to its face. It snaps at me too late. "I can always make fireworks out of you. It's not like it matters."

"_Starfish_, Zolfy," a voice behind me replies. . . Damn, how the hell did she find me this time?

"Go to hell, Kelly," I mumble, not even bothering to turn around.

"I'd have to be able to die first," she smugly retorts. She crouches down next to me. "That'd be nice, though. Then I won't be stuck with an asshole like you."

I stare lazily at her. "No one said you have to be stuck with me. In fact, I'm sure we'd both be much happier if you leave me alone."

She rests her chin on her hand. "Listen, if I was able to choose who to be with, I wouldn't have chosen _you_."

I stand back up and go over to a cage on the other side of the room. "You're talking crap again."

I hear her sniffle. "I'm being serious . . . I can't leave – I really do try, but I can't!"

"Just shut up already. You're making yourself sound even more retarded."

She is flat-out crying now. "You see why I hate you so much? You can't figure anything out! I miss the other Zolfy –the cute little one; the one who never did anything wrong; the one everyone actually liked. Why'd you have to change?"

I glance over at her with an odd expression on my face. "Do you even hear yourself speak?"

"No one should change . . ." she continues, then laughs softly to herself. "I'm starting to sound like your mom now."

I have ignored this oddity for too long. I walk over to her and pull her hair so she can look at me right in the face. She does not even flinch. "Listen, you freak. You're going to tell me right know how you know so much crap about me and my parents."

"How many more times can I explain it?" Her voice and expression show calmness now. "I know as much as you do. And if you don't know why, I don't know either. I really do wish to know myself, to know more about you, to know what happened to you, but-"

"Enough of that! I want the truth!"

"The truth only goes as far as you can remember . . ."

Tucker comes back, carrying his almost-daughter in one of his beastlike arms. "What are you doing, Crimson Alchemist?"

I let go of Kelly. "Oh, nothing too important," I answer.

Tucker stares at me for an unreasonable amount of time then slowly begins to walk around the room, checking on his chimera. "Who were talking to earlier?" He suddenly asks. What a stupid question.

"The _chimera_," I reply sarcastically. I point at Kelly, who looks awfully terrified at Tucker, clasping both hands around her mouth and starts shaking. "Her, of course."

Tucker looks right at Kelly, then at the chimera beside her in the cage. "It's not much when it comes to conversing." He was referring to the chimera.

"Yeah, I know that. But to answer your question, I was talking to _her_, who shouldn't even be here." I stare at Kelly, who had fallen on her ass and had backed far away from Tucker. And she is crying again, giving me a helpless look.

Tucker glances at his almost-daughter. " . . . No one else is here."

"He can't see me, Zolfy!" Kelly cries as she crawls her way behind me and clings to one of my legs. "Make it stop! Make him go away!"

"Quit it," I hiss at her and try to move away. But she yanks on my leg, so I fall over.

"Are you feeling . . . _stable_?" Tucker asks me. He stares at me as if I had made myself fall over or something. He glances around the room, looking right past Kelly, looking for something unknown. "No one else is here," he repeats.

Kelly shrieks and covers her ears with her hands. "Stop it! Stop hurting me! Stop pretending I'm not even alive!" Tucker pays absolutely no mind to her. I get this weird feeling in my gut. Something is definitely wrong with this scenario.

". . . What do you mean no one else is here?" I slowly ask as I stand back up, my eyes not leaving Kelly. She covers her face and starts shaking her head disapprovingly.

Tucker scratches his head – I mean chin. "Oh, I see. You're _him_." He shrugs and heads back over to where he was before. "That kid who became a State Alchemist . . ." I barely catch some of his last words as he goes out of sight: "fresh out of the . . ."

"Medical Arts Building," Kelly finishes his sentence in a hoarse whisper similar to his own. She wipes her tears as she rocks herself gently. "Looks like you're crazier than we remember."

It hits me. That stupid little spider. _She poked at it over and over again, but somehow never killed it._ And when she argued against Basque at Ishbal. _Basque completely ignored her and headed out the tent with his share of red water._ And what did she say after that? _It's okay; I'm used to being ignored! _And back in prison_. I think she slipped into my cell without anyone noticing._ And if that was not odd enough . . . _as if it were nothing at all, she stood up, opened the seemingly locked door, and left._ She always does that. _It seems as though the laws of locked doors do not apply to Kelly._ She always manages to find me, too.

I rub my forehead with one of my palms. My head is throbbing for some reason. "No, this isn't right." I can feel Kelly's gaze. I turn to her, and I can see it, too. Her expression is blank and her tears are gone.

". . . Did I make you _mad_?" She asked this once before, but she emphasized _mad_ this time. The meaning has changed.

"You're not even real, are you?" I ask; feeling dizzy for some reason.

Her gaze falls to the floor. "I guess not." Then her face twists in anger as she looks back at me. "But I'm real enough to you and that's good enough for me!" She springs up from the floor. "And now that you've figured this much out, I'm expecting the rest!"

"What's _the rest_?"

"I want to know your past; what made you change, your problems with your parents, when I first appeared and everything in between." She extends an arm, shoves me back, and I know this was not real, but I felt her hand hard against my chest anyway. "It's funny how much power something like me has, no? And you know why? 'Cause it's all in your mind. No one can help you!"

I have to try something; I need to prove myself wrong. I grab the nearest object – a flask atop one of the cages – and fling it at her. It explodes on time, but she does not flinch. Not a scratch on her. She smiles at me, quite amused. "You need more proof?" she asks. Without even waiting for an answer, she pulls out her gun, points it to the side of her head, and shoots herself several times. I hear the gunshots. I can see blood shooting from the other side; I can see it running down her face, from her nose, her smiling lips. "And this doesn't even hurt," she says and she drops her gun to the floor. It disappears.

"Stay the fuck away from me!" I try not to yell, knowing Tucker is in the other room. But I did. Kelly laughs at me.

Tucker comes back and ignoring what I blurted out, he says, "The Fuhrer is expecting your leave now. Have you chosen which chimeras you want?" He hands me a ring with a red water stone on it. Aw, I would have loved this gift if it had the power to help me now.

I take the ring and try to focus on it to not to look or even think about Kelly. But she is standing right next to me, glaring at Tucker, blood still trickling from her mouth. "Doesn't matter – you decide," I answer Tucker.

Lior is not going to be as great as I thought it would be. I try to ignore Kelly, but she has not left my side since leaving Tucker's lab. She sits beside me in the back of a military vehicle with the chimeras. The bullet holes are gone, but blood still flows out from the side of her head. She smiles, looking mighty proud of herself. "You hate this much blood, don't you? Tell me why."

_It's disgusting_, I say in my mind. If Kelly is nothing but a damned figment of my mentality, then talking to her makes no sense whatsoever. But how did I miss this after so many years?

"Disgusting, you say?" she replies. Oh, this is simply wonderful. "What about blowing people up? Destroying their lives, their family's lives, their friends' lives? You don't find _that_ disgusting?"

_Not at all. It's a nice, clean kill. And it's more fun than anything._

"What if someone blows _you_ up? You think that'll be fun?"

_What are the odds of that? I don't have to worry about it._

Kelly giggles. "Yeah, it wouldn't matter anyway, right? You're just _one_ person. A person who won't leave a single friend or family member behind. But that's cheating 'cause you don't have any!"

_Neither do you._

"But _I'm_ not even real. I don't feel anything; no true emotions either."

_Go away._

Kelly runs her fingers through her bloody hair. "Only after I get what I want. So are you ready to tell me your life story?" She rubs the blood on her fingers together. "Start off with the basics. When you started going to those doctors, then go backwards from there."

_. . . They always asked too many questions and expected too much from me, just like you. _Kelly laughs. _I couldn't figure out where they were trying to get to. Then they gave me all these meds, and my mom ended up taking them. I never felt anything wrong with me, so I didn't take any of them seriously._

"Symptoms of schizophrenia don't usually appear until the late teens," Kelly points out. Yeah, I already knew that.

_I didn't believe them anyway. I thought the only reason I was there was so they could try to get me to stop practicing alchemy. And so I exploded some of them throughout my years there. There was nothing they could do because they had no proof. Eventually, I killed my parents for starting the whole ordeal._

"How did _they_ start it?"

_By being themselves. My mom was always a head case and she kept on getting worse. I guess my dad didn't want his fingerprints on that wreck, so he started being around less and less. I know, it's stupid, but that's how things went and I chose to ignore it. I started alchemy and-_

"You're jumping too far ahead now. What made you so interested in alchemy?"

_Everything! Transmutation - the power to create something amazing out of piles of crap –creating fireworks out of people! And it's so easy! _

"You think _you're_ a pile of crap?" She gives me a toothy smile.

_You're taking it too literally. But yes, I believe that's what most people are._

"You didn't answer my question."

The vehicle comes to complete stop and I hear the driver say, "Alright, coast is clear." I sigh of relief – I thought I was never going to get out! The back door opens and I jump out, along with the chimeras who suddenly go from tranquil to rabid as they step onto the ground, itching for civilians to kill. No one is around. I place both hand on the vehicle and explode it, along with the driver, just for the hell of it.

Some of the chimeras start going their separate ways and unfortunately, Kelly sticks with me. She wipes some of the excessive blood from her mouth and comments, "That was awfully rude of you. You don't even stop to think about the people you've just hurt. What if that guy had a family waiting for him back home?"

_And what if he didn't? Listen, I have to take a break from our meaningless conversation now. I have work to do here. _I run my hands on a nearby building and destroy it. I hear screams; some fading due to death and others seem like they are getting farther. These people must already know they are under attack and trying to escape. Too bad for them the chimeras have scattered themselves. I march through a more populated area and destroy everything along my path . . . how unfulfilling. None of these people are even trying to fight back.

"Get it over with and remember already!" Kelly nags.

I see several civilians leaving their houses as quickly as possible, trying to get away from the chimeras and me. "Even those Ishbalan weaklings put up more of a fight, and that's not saying much!" I insult them as I blow up some more buildings along with them. In a matter of seconds, a nice big chunk of the city is destroyed. As I wait for the smoke to clear, I really do try to remember something.

_I can't – it's too long ago. What else do you want me to say?_

"What about that thing you never told the doctors?"

_. . . You know what it is, so I don't have to say it._

"I wanna hear it from _you_!" Kelly starts to laugh. "Y'know, that thing is very, eh, intriguing, no? I'll start the sentence off for you: your parents wanted a daughter, so they . . .?" She shows her bloody palm at me, expecting me to finish for her.

_They hated me over something I couldn't control. How much more retarded could they get?_

"Well, it couldn't have been utter hate. You're still pretty like a girl! " So was that supposed to be a compliment all this time? "BUT, I was expecting a different answer."

The smoke has completely cleared. I ignore Kelly and I look around, trying to clear my mind, searching for any survivors. Nothing. "I've overestimated them. I thought surely they would have issued a counterattack after all that I've done. I guess I'll have to push harder."

The chimeras suddenly dash past me as Kelly continues from where she left off: "It was something rather iffy." She wipes more new blood from her face onto her sleeve. "And yet you still have long hair. I guess you'd get used to it after so many years."

I hear some shrill shrieks coming from the chimeras and see that they are being slaughtered by someone that should not be here. With a touch of his hand, the chimeras split open and nothing but their blood is left on the floor. "So it is you," the man says to me. "The Crimson Alchemist." Another person who thinks he knows me?

"Who the hell . . ." I start, then I notice the scar on his face and those red eyes, trademark of the Ishbalans. The one I left for dead, that perfect x-shaped scar; I shall call him Scar. "Ah, now I remember. That scar is definitely my handiwork."

_But I also remember taking his arm . . ._ "You remember the most useless things!" Kelly whines.

Needless to say, Scar is not very happy to see me. He lunges himself at me and I attack too, but the stone on my ring breaks somehow and goes into that arm he must have grown back or something. Unless Ishbalans are more advanced that us when it comes to medicine – ha! Anyway, it looks like that little stone is inflicting more pain than when I exploded his arm off. Scar was not screaming that much last time. I feel insulted.

"That can't be his arm," Kelly muses. _Yeah, it's all tattooed like the other Ishbalan I saw back then. . . . He must have absorbed the last stone like that then. Ohhh . . ._ Kelly growls angrily, "I don't care about your time in Ishbal! Focus on what needs to be remembered!"

_I'm in a freakin' fight here! Get out of the way!_ Scar had regained composure already and he is back to trying to kill me. Kelly is helping out a lot by staying in my way. I crash into her stupid nonexistent body, but still manage to fall. "Hurry up and tell me before you die!" _I'm not gonna die, you idiot!_ Scar comes at me and I clumsily flip myself over, so instead he blows up part of the ground with his hand.

_This sucks. I'm too distracted._ "Hurry!" Kelly wails. She looks seriously freaked out now. And blood is still pouring out from the side of her head as if it were an open faucet. I find myself running away from Scar. How stupid is this? "Look, how hard is it to remember? It's right in front of your face!"

_What is? I don't know half of what happened – maybe a concussion will explain it. Yeah, I wouldn't doubt my dad beat the crap out of me – _"When your mom ran away?" _Sure. You happy now? _"No, because that's just a guess." _Hey, it's an educated one. I'm getting tired of this._

Amidst the confusion of more explosions coming from the both of us, I eventually find myself facing straight at Scar. "Do you really think it wise to be chasing me around like this when the military could jump in at any moment, Scar?" I ask.

Kelly mimics my voice and adds, "Do you really think the military would come here to help _you_ if they did decide to jump in at any moment, Zolfy?" I do not even glance over at her this time.

Scar answers my question: "Oh, I think I'll chance it to avenge my brother, Kimblee." Weirdo.

"You're risking your own life for something as pointless as revenge?" I almost feel like laughing.

"And what is it that you're killing for?" he asks me as if there could possibly be a legitimate reason.

"Nothing." I thought that was all I needed to say, but poor stupid Scar is baffled now. Since I feel like he needs a lecture, I continue, "At the end of the day, a human being is not much more than the components used to create a common bomb. If you think about it, we're not that special. Not you, not me; we're all empty." I look right at him and smile. "We're all worthless."

"Nah, that doesn't apply to everyone," Kelly comments, still with my voice. "But to you, of course! You can't do anything right." _Yeah, you're so hilarious. Get out of my mind already – you won't find what you want. _

"I might be empty . . ." A familiar voice . . . Al? I look down and see huge transmutation circle. How the hell did _that_ happen?_ And out of all the things you could have stepped on!_ I could not tell if that was Kelly talking or not. Before I know it, a big hand is transmuted out of the ground and grabs me. Creepy. Al continues his dramatic entrance by coming out of the ground and declaring: ". . . but not worthless!"

"Cut me some slack, Al. I'm just a State Alchemist trying to do his job – just like your brother!"

"You're just a murderer!" The blue trash can shrieks at me.

Kelly sits herself next to me, wringing her hair out so that imaginary blood splatters around the transmuted hand. "Now what?" she asks. "Am I just gonna explode the problem away? But that doesn't always work. Kelly's still here." I decide to not respond. "I'm trying my best to remember!" she says, sounding worried, but I am not looking at her anymore. "I need to before you kill us both." She could at least use a different voice. "You're trying too, right?" Actually, I am just focusing on a transmutation. "Stop it! Stop pretending I'm not even alive!" I felt something weird, hearing myself say that. _You've never been alive, damn it! And no one needs to be._

I break apart the hand and immediately grab Al. All I know is that I should get rid of Scar before this thing so I fling it at him. Al stumbles over the Ishbalan and before he realizes it, I have my hand clutched on his own. It turns black and I start to laugh. "Well, how do you like that? Looks like I've managed to get rid of both of your arms, old boy!" _Oh, what an accomplishment! No it's not. You shut up. _I need to clear my head. I still have a few more things to say to Scar. "Do you smell that? Smells like defeat. Any minute now, your arm will begin to absorb the oxygen from the air. And then, kablooie!"

Kelly claps sarcastically. "How articulate . . . I guess I really can't do _anything_ right." _What are you – me now?_ I have not left my gaze off of Scar. "What else could I possibly be?"

And something unexpected happens. Scar grabs his blackened arm with his tattooed one and he starts _ripping_ to _shredding _take_ tearing_ it off. _Lightning? Fire? Why does this come to mind?_ "Why are you hesitating?" Kelly hisses. "You're so close!" _I hate it. I can't stand it! All that blood pouring out so freely. Like when my mom cuts herself like when I first attempted alchemy like when – _I find myself running in the opposite direction. "When what!" Kelly yells from behind. _I don't know! Something else, something –_

"AAAHHHHHH!" _Am I the one screaming? "Javan." What the hell's going on? _I feel a burst of intense pain coming from my back, right through my torso. _"You can still pass as a girl!" Kelly, that bitch. "You – men are horrible!" That Ishbalan woman. "Starfish." That stupid story. _The pain spreads until everything burns; my legs, my hands, my head. _"I don't want to be your mom anymore." Mom? "Did he blame you for his marital problems?" No, wait, who's that? "Don't be so sure of yourself, you mental patient." Kelly? No, Javan! _

I hit the ground.

This pain is so familiar . . . The taste of blood in my mouth; happening so fast, not being able to stop it; everything burning. _"You mustn't call adults by their first name, Zolfy. Why are you so troublesome; you even made your mother leave." "I didn't do anything. You're the one always yelling at her." Yeah, I remember saying that to him. "You suck as a dad! . . . this isn't funny." What was he doing? _It felt – _"Really? Well, I think so." I remember it hurting. _– like this. _I didn't understand it back then. "What are you doing? Stop!" "Don't cry or it'll hurt more." "Stop it! Stop hurting me! Stop pretending I'm not even alive!" "You weren't supposed to be. Not like this. I wanted a daughter."_

"You can forget it now." That was Kelly's usual voice. I open my eyes and see nothing but blood and dirt at first. I try to get up, but everything hurts too much so I can only turn my head to see her; still bloody and smiling happily. "You're so disgusting. You let all that happen to you." _What the hell are you talking about? I was nine or ten – and I didn't know alchemy yet – you think I had a chance against my fuckin' dad?_ "You let it happen." _What choice did I have? _Kelly starts to laugh. "Yes, I remember those times clearly now. I was there, in a sense. It went on and on, threat after threat, day after day. I was the one who told you to forget all this – who'd want to remember? – so you accepted it by blocking it all out. And then you really did forget – that was easy due to your illness. It was like that time period didn't exist, but I'm sure _both_ your parents knew the truth. Why else would your mom not accept you when she came back? Heh, and that's how much you're worth to them!" _Why the hell would he even think of doing that?_ She grins evilly at me. "You're still pretty."

If I had anything in me to vomit, I would have. I push myself up; feeling like my arms could break from the weight. What _did_ happen? Not in the past – just now. How did I end up on the floor with my blood and guts spilling out?. . . Scar. _You asshole. You couldn't even kill me. _"Don't even bother getting up," Kelly nags me. "You dying will be one less piece of crap on this world."_ . . . I still don't understand_. I slowly turn myself around, still unable to stand up. Kelly narrows her eyes at me. "What?" _Why everyone seems to hate me – but I don't want your opinion – I don't care! I'm gonna die here anyway, but before I do . . ._

I can see Al in my reach now. I can see one of those stupid watches attached to him. "What the hell is keeping you from dying already?" Kelly hisses. "Give it up – no one wants you here!" _That's my motivation. Why should other people get what they want? What did I ever get? _"You parents wanted you to have nothing so that should be good enough for you." _What kind of fucked up logic is that?_ I crawl over to Al, grab its leg with one hand and the watch in the other. If Tucker has done his work, some stones should be there. I have no hope in beating Scar myself now, so I fling the watch at him.

Scar stupidly holds out his arm, maybe thinking he should destroy the watch, but it explodes on him and the stones stick to his arm and bury themselves in him. He screams again and I can only assume it hurts much more than it looks. The trash can says something and I tell it, "Really, Al. You didn't expect me to play without a loaded deck, did you?"

"What does it matter?" Kelly says. "Look, I see no militants coming yet. I wouldn't be surprised if they expected you to fail like this." _Look, if you shut up now, I'll die a happy man. _I rub my face on the trash can's leg, so cold and numbing, not unlike the rest of my body. "You're lying. You don't even know what it's like to be happy. I've never seen you smile once when you're _not_ out of your mind. All this time –"

I do my best to block out her ranting as I continue my own: "It's gonna be so magnificent, Al." _You can't ignore me! _"I can feel your makeup. You'll make such a great bomb." _I'll get to you! _"Farewell, my friend." I finish the transmutation of Al's body, and even through its screams, I still hear Kelly loud and clear.

"Who do you blame for all this?" she asks. "Yourself, right?" _Of course not! _"Well, this couldn't possibly be _my_ fault – I'm not even real!" _How could I be blamed for this? Did I ask for my mother's illness? Did I ask to be fucked – and by my own dad? Did I ask to even be born into that so-called family?_ "What's the answer?" _NO! It's no! You can't blame everything I do on me! . . . It was him!_

"You bastard!" I almost thought I said that, but it Scar did and he meant me. Ah, yes, this is about Al. I suppose he wants to know what he can do. Nothing, of course. _I can't even hear myself speak. That's because you're so weak and pathetic._ Kelly's presence is gone._ Oh, great, I'm just arguing against myself now. You always were. _I hack up blood until nothing else comes out. _I thought you wanted to destroy Al. Why take so long? I want that thing to suffer, too. No reason; mine wasn't valid either. Why do things always turn out so badly for me? _

And my thoughts go on . . . _my childhood; Medical; the military; Ishbal; prison; _. . . getting weaker . . . _Greed got things easy; back in the military; Lior; now. They're going to leave me here alone _. . . until . . ._ I always was_.

. . . nothing . . .

**. . . Extras . . .**

**Chapter One: **I redid this chapter at least three times because it felt too slow to me. There's almost no action here and surprisingly not even guns. Guns ended up being a huge motif in this fic, along with rape – which is a little implied here. The character "Aduya" is not important, but her name is . . .

**Chapter Two:** Damn, I gave Zolfy really crappy parents. Another irrelevant character "Todome" is mentioned here. You see, I put Spanish in all my fics because that's just how I am and I needed those letters in that name for a little hidden message . . .

**Chapter Three:** The starfish dream is a true story I got from my teacher. However, in real life, he helped the other guy put starfish back in the water whereas Zolfy just grabbed one and cussed at it. And now about Kelly: she first mentions her alchemist name "Esuna" before her full name "Tiramen." Along with the two other names, and if you rearrange some letters, you get "Ayúdame, todo es una mentira." That's Spanish for, "Help me, everything is a lie." I wasn't expecting anyone to get that 'cause then you might have figured Kelly es una mentira. So this was just here for the sake of having Spanish.

**Chapter Four:** Remember what Kelly said about the military? I got that from "The Rape of Nanking." It's a book on what the Japanese did to the Chinese during World War II. There's so much more bad shit there that I didn't even mention. I don't really recommend this book unless you think you're old enough.

**Chapter Five: **The anime never mentions how Greed and the others got Devil's Nest, so I just figured they raided it. And that thing Kelly did with Zolfy's eyelash . . .yeah, people actually do that. I'm not sure who was the first at my school, so I don't know who to give credit to.

**Chapter Six:** This chapter makes me wish I've been watching the English episodes because I bet I let out some pretty important things, but oh well! There are too many English actors I don't like listening to.

**Chapter Seven:** Wow, I can only hope this wasn't too confusing. My poor Zolfy . . . I was really thinking of coming up with another conclusion, but I felt this was the one that fit best. And if you've actually read this far, why not review? How else am I supposed to know what you think of all this?


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